


The Storm

by HostisHumaniGeneris



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Antagonizing someone because you like-like them, Demon Sex, F/M, Kissing in the Rain, Lust, Outdoor Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:27:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22044856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HostisHumaniGeneris/pseuds/HostisHumaniGeneris
Summary: They had agreed to give each other some space a few weeks ago. With shouting and expletives. It was a pattern they’d fallen into. Things would be going well for a while, then one of them would say something stupid and ruin it all.  So they were own when work drew them back together by coincidence.Just because sometimes they can't stand each other, doesn't mean they can keep their hands off of one another, either.
Relationships: Dante/Lady (Devil May Cry)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 53
Collections: New Year's Sins Flash Exchange





	The Storm

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Macabreverie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Macabreverie/gifts).



The rain pattered against the gravel driveway, pasting her hair down against her face. Her shoulders were rising with every inhalation; he could almost hear her heart pounding in her chest as she picked herself up off the ground. Her eyes were wide in surprise, then her expression hardened into an annoyed scowl.

And here he was, grinning like an idiot.

It was funny, running into her like this. When he got the call and got on the road, he’d considered calling her up—it’d help break the ice if nothing else, but he decided against it. And here she was anyways, diving out of an abandoned, burning greenhouse; surrounded by the mulched corpses of small, ambulatory “saplings” of a demonic plant entity.

She was outside of the _screaming_ burning greenhouse. Vines the width of his arm writhed and shrieked.

And he leapt into the fire.

There was a lot of shrieking vegetation and gunfire. Really, most of the work had already been accomplished the fire. Smoke and steam obscured whatever was the center mass of the thing—leaving him to hack away at vines until he found the right thing to stab.

And then he dove out of the way as more glass shattered and a hail of lead cut through the thing. Maybe he’d been distracted and hadn’t heard her yell out a ‘watch out’. Maybe she was still pissed at him.

Whatever.

There was a pause in the gunfire for a moment, maybe enough for her too reload, right up until she yelled ‘fire the the hole!” The rocket from _Kalina Ann_ streaked inches from his head and hit _something_ obscured by all the smoke. The explosion shattered more glass and blew the smoke away from a huge, gnarled trunk that had just been split open, demonic eyes flopping. She apparently got the matchpoint, as the thing thrashed, convulsed, screamed loud enough to shatter what was left of the greenhouse, and then went quiet and still.

His ears were still ringing as he exited the warehouse, some fire still burning on the shriveling husk of the plant. He looked at her; lowering her guns after confirming the sudden movement was him, and gave her a disarming grin. She did not return it.

They had agreed to give each other some space a few weeks ago. With shouting and expletives. It was a pattern they’d fallen into. Things would be going well for a while, then one of them would say something stupid—maybe about his brother, or her father, or his mother, or her mother, or whatever and soon enough neither could stand to be around each other.

She was yelling something, but between the storm and how his ears were still ringing, he barely heard it until he got right up. With a smug smirk, he asked loudly “What’s a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?”

Lady explained rapid fire, leaving out a lot of details. She’d been following up on some news, mysterious monster sightings, disappearing livestock. Did a little research in a library, read through a bestiary that she’d found hunting a madman years ago. A brief hunt to confirm that there was a demonic problem— and after loading up on incendiaries, she was in the process of tackling the problem. “And I didn’t need your help.”

He shrugged. “Yeah, but the person who hired me _did_.”

“Just remember, _I_ did most of the work here.” Oh, so she was working alone, until the prospect of pay came up. He looked her up and down, drenched, her white shirt was partly-transparent due to being soaked through, clinging to skin. He scowled when he noticed the red stains along her right sleeve. “What’re you looking at, Dante?”

These thing didn’t have blood, they had sap.

“You okay?” The grin disappeared, which he realized was a mistake too late.

She looked at her arm, looked back at him, and rolled her eyes. “I’m fine. Just got cut up when I dove through the greenhouse. You got worse.”

He was aware his face was a mess right now—or had been a few minutes ago. Being inside the greenhouse when pretty much every glass panel shattered was not particularly healthy. But he was already healed up, nothing left to do but get the blood off of him.

He held up his hands. This was not an argument he wanted to have with her. She _hated_ him ‘fawning’ over her—not his fault she wasn’t nearly as durable as he was—it was something that had led to a few arguments earlier. He could hear it in his head. He never cared about his wounds. Because he could shrug off impalement. Well she’d had worse—she climbed Temen-Ni-Gru with a massive leg wound.

Instead of arguing, he shrugged and started trudging back to the road along the grass. She kept pace with him. He paused, she paused. They were both bad at talking—trash talking they could do. He still wasn’t sure enough time had passed since their last shouting match to get back. “So… any idea where Audrey II came from?”

Talking shop was a good idea.

“I’m working on it… either a cult or some local who didn’t know what they were doing.” She said with a nod. “Priority one was killing this thing—I figure if it hasn’t ate whoever summoned it, they’ll show up sooner or later wondering why the demon they summoned is dead.”

“You look like you have the situation well in hand.” He nodded. He’d leave out that bit when he reported to his employer—demon was dead and he had stabbed it a few times, and he needed the paycheck. “Who hired you anyways?”

“No one, just kind of stumbled across this.” She said. That was characteristic of her—no jobs in a while she’d get stir crazy and do something _pro bono_. He would’ve been doing that too, if he wasn’t hard up for cash at the moment. She _smirked_ in a way that got him wound up, then promptly ruined it when she added. “Just remember, when you get paid for this gig, you _owe_ me.”

She smirked wider when he grumbled out “Yeah, yeah.”

He kept looking at her, brushing wet hair out of her face, the way her shirt was positively _plastered_ to her skin from the rain, the multitude of little tears and cuts.

The devil made him loop an arm around her. He had the distinct thought of _can’t we just skip to the makeup sex already_ , and then he pulled her in close.

She didn’t mutter in annoyance or try to pry his arm off.

She got keyed up with a fight that was over faster than she thought and had all sorts of energy to burn. She did ill-advised things when she got stir crazy. Like reach over, pulling him close, and pressing her lips against him.

They clawed at one another; nipped and grumbled and slipped on the wet ground. She dug her nails into the back of his scalp and neck while he fumbled, grabbing her breast through her shirt and squeezing enough to draw a hiss. He swept her off her feet, literally—hooking a leg behind hers and taking her to the ground. “Hey!”

“You’re cute when you’re angry.” He said, as her eyes narrowed and her nose crinkled. She hooked an arm around his neck and pulled him down, muttering something unflattering in his ear while her free hand went exploring.

She tried to wriggle out of his grip as his hand slid down her belly. He leaned in close as he moved his hand under her gunbelt and the waistband of her shorts. She inhaled sharply as his fingers slid in—the fit was tight without his hand reaching for her pussy. She arched her back against him as he slid his way down more; she was soaking wet, and it wasn’t just from the rain.

She grumbled and moaned when he blindly found her slit and slid a finger in. She had a hand on his wrist, her other was reaching for his belt as he worked her over. He let out a contented sigh against her neck that was drowned out by a squeal from her when he found _that_ spot.

His fingers worked faster and faster, and he used his other hand to grope a breast. She writhed and groaned and closed her eyes in ecstasy.

He stopped.

Her eyes opened wide as he withdrew his hand. She looked up at him, mismatched eyes hardening as he licked his fingers. “Something wrong?”

“You’re a real bastard, Dante.” She said breathily. She shrugged and began tugging her chaps and shorts down.

He pushed himself to a kneeling position and began to undo his fly, when she grabbed him by the coat and shoved. He slipped and landed on his side, only for her to shove him onto his back. Planting her right forearm across his throat to pin him down, she fumbled with her left to free his cock, never taking her eyes off of him. He groaned when she began to stroke him.

She climbed on top of him, the rain dripping down her frame and onto him as she lined up. He tried to sit up when she planted her hands on his shoulders and shoved. She brushed against his cock, teasingly barely touching him, grin on her face. She scooted backwards when he bucked his hips, thwarting his efforts. When he let out an annoyed growl, her grin just widened.

She got back into position and _slowly_ began to lower herself down, so very slowly. He was _throbbing_ , and she was moving so very slowly. When he grabbed onto her hips and pulled her down to the hip, she yelped. She smacked his chest in annoyance and just rested atop him, as he bucked upwards as much as he could. He tried to dig his heels into the ground, get a little more leverage, but his boots slid in the muddy dirt.

She rocked back and forth a little atop him, grabbing each of his wrists in either hand and then pinning them across his chest, before slowly lifting herself up. She was moving very slowly and deliberately as she fucked him into the ground.

She gradually picked up the pace, and they groaned and panted. When she shifted her grip to his shoulders and threw her head back, he snaked his arms around her and pulled her against, him, biting at her neck. Nails raked his skin. She ground against him, he pressed a hand against her belly.

They grew louder as they shoved each other over the edge.

He had no idea how long he was staring at the sky, rain pouring on his face, before he propped himself up. She was lying next to him in a boneless heap, facing him on her side. She let out a contented sigh as he ran a hand down her side, across her bare thigh, squeezing her ass. The devil made him raise his hand and bring it down with an audible slap.

She winced, and then glared at him in pure annoyance.

She looked cute when she was mad.

When he shoved his fingers between her legs and began to work her over, she shuddered, her face softening instantly.

She looked cuter like this, though.

* * *

It was mid-afternoon when Lady woke up. She sat bolt upright in the cheap motel bed he’d rented. She did the same thing in his bed bac at the office. She calmed down when she too stock of her surroundings. “Where are my clothes, Dante?”

He slid out of the bed and went to the bathroom, where he tossed their clothes over the curtainrod for the motel shower. Stepping into his pants, he pulled her shorts and shirt down. They were still a little damp, a fact he let her know. She shrugged.

He went over to a bundle of fresh clothes he had—she gasped when he revealed he brought an extra set of clothes for the job. The shirt he threw at her could qualify as a short dress for her—a very short dress that left very little to the imagination. She could lounge in that while waiting for her stuff to dry. He was keeping the pants for himself.

He collapsed in a chair that creaked when he dropped don it, looking at her. The morning after the make-up sex was always a little awkward. “Care to give me a ride to my hotel? Left my bike there.”

He nodded. “Sure.”

When he got up, she held a hand up. “I didn’t mean right now.”

Yep, awkward.

“I’ve been thinking…” He said, ignoring the little smirk she gave as she thought of a joe that she felt like keeping to herself. “…we keep doing this. We argue, stop talking, be miserable alone, run into each other, fuck each other senseless, and then…”

“It all starts again.” She finished his sentence.

“Neither one of us are really talkers…” He shrugged, gesturing with his hand. “But lets face it, I… like being with you…”

She seemed to perk up a little as he struggled to find words.

“…when you’re not being _infuriating_.” He was well aware that was the _wrong_ thing to say, and immediately tried to course correct. “Look, I get it, I’m an asshole, plenty hard to live with. But… I want to make this work…”

“And ‘this’ is?” She said. Not mad, as far as he could tell, but in that inscrutable way that meant he couldn’t tell if she wasn’t mad or not. “Business partnership? Or…”

Neither one of them was good at talking.

She pulled his shirt back over her head, balled it up, and tossed it aside. Naked save for some gauze around her arms, bruised along her hips, and covered in dirt, she shrugged and headed for the shower, exaggeratedly swaying her hips as she passed by his chair. “You’re covered in dirt, Dante. Could use a shower.”

He noted she didn’t close the bathroom door when she went in it, or began to run the shower.

He got up and walked over, standing in the doorway as steaming water ran down her shoulders. Like a warmer version of last night. He wanted to put the brakes. Wait until she was done, sit her down, and actually work out where they exactly stood. What they could do to make this work?

Instead he kicked his way out of his pants and got in the shower. Devil made him do it.

At least, the way she grinned and moaned when he shoved her against the wall and spread her legs proved she wasn’t mad at him. Yet. Not with a leg hooked under his arm and his cock pressing into her. Sooner or later one of the would say something stupid and they’d be on the rocks, again. And instead of figuring out how _not_ to piss each other off, he was fucking her senseless.

He supposed that was enough for now.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoy this, requestor! There were so many ways to play with the tags you threw out, I hope I hit on one you enjoyed--if you'd prefer a different take, please let me know!


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